A Winter's Tale
by Salamara
Summary: Jack's past...13 years before 'Curse of the Black Pearl' and we find out exactly what mark Jack left on Beckett. Usual Jack / Beckett / Female O/C. Bit of a laugh.
1. Prepare to make way

**_Ok Guys - so here's the PotC I promised you. I started writing this about a year ago just for kicks and for my close friends, but then I thought - 'Hey, why not see what other people think of it?' As I've said - I wrote it a while ago and it's an on-going thing so in my opinion the later chapters are the better. Over all, I'm not overly pleased with it, but it was just for kicks. I think I gave Jack's character a good go though..._**

**_Anyways, hope you enjoy it - I'll try and upload a new chapter everyday once I've proof-read them. Let me know what you think._**

**_Thanks for reading _**

**_-Sal-_**

* * *

Euphemia awoke to the rancid taste of a dry sleep in her mouth. Her knotted hair stuck to her face with sweat from fevered dreams. She struggled into a seated position, pulling strands from her brow. A basin of steaming water had recently been placed by the bed, along with a sponge and comb; whoever had placed it there was obviously trying to introduce her to back into the habit of personal hygiene – something she rarely took notice of. Still, a wash and brush-up would be a welcome comfort right now.

Euphemia dipped the sponge into the hot water and breathed in its luxury as she pressed it against her face. She washed away the sweat and patches of congealed blood which were still patterning her body, despite obvious signs that she had been attended to medically.

She grabbed the comb and grimaced: the worst thing in the world. Dragging the teeth through her bedraggled hair - still crystallized with salt - reminded her of her father's lacking attempts to tidy her up. She never had the luxury of a mother to do such feminine things; she had grown up totally surrounded by men, and so rapidly lost interest in any sort of personal sanitation.

As she pushed herself up off the bed, she automatically lunged her left leg forward, ready for the roll of the sea. Instead of steadying herself however, she simply ended up in a ridiculous thrusting position; her feet in an awkward pigeon-toed stance. Euphemia hesitated, contemplating just how much she looked like Jack.

Straightening herself, she ambled unsteadily towards a couch where a clean dress had been conveniently placed. The pirate gave an indignant snort of laughter and slipped off the night shirt she wore, simply to replace it with her own baggy shirt which she found hidden in a pile of laundered material; the stains had not been successfully removed.

The shirt had just slipped over her head when the door rushed open and a heavy-booted footman entered. Euphemia turned with raised brow.

'Ever heard of knocking?'

The gentleman nodded his apologies and eventually drew his stare away.

'Thank you,' Euphemia exalted sarcastically, 'I know I'm not much of a lady, but I still enjoy a little privacy!'

She returned to the pile, hoping to find a familiar pair of breeches.

'Admiral Beckett requests your presence, M'am.'

She continued searching.

'Does he indeed? Well do you think he'll mind if I acquire myself a pair of trousers first?'

'I'm sure that is acceptable M'am.'

Euphemia smiled as she glanced her trousers.

'Ah!' She grabbed them and pulled them on. 'Right; all is good - let's go...'

Buckling her trousers she marched towards the guard barefoot.

'This way, M'am,'

The man offered the direction as Euphemia strode-on, announcing her disapproval,

'And enough with the "M'am" thing; makes it sound like you care...'


	2. Possibly the worst pirate ever seen

As the oak door was pushed open for her, Euphemia stood with no regard for where she was. She gazed, bewildered, into the room and let her feet follow at their own pace. The quarters were very dimly lit, with only a few oil lanterns here and there. The curtains were drawn now that it was dark outside; she must have been sleeping for at least two full days. She could sense that the port was just the other side of the windows; she knew that there were boats and dinghies and ships all sat there, gently turning over the waves. Hers was not there. She did not know where hers was.

The flames from the lantern on the far side of the room flickered on the ceiling. Euphemia followed the shadow down the wall to a desk in the corner, papers neatly tidied into corresponding piles, and three drawers down one side. The private quarters boasted finery the likes of which Euphemia had never seen before: vulgar. A plush embroidered couch of green and gold sat against one wall, next to which the grand fireplace stood, a large East India Company emblem hanging repulsively above it.

Euphemia sneered; it made her want to hawk-up and spit.

Finally her eyes came to rest on the reasonably sized mahogany dining table in the centre of the room, presently supporting a range of fruit, sweet cakes and...

Yes. Euphemia grinned. Before she knew it her feet were heading towards the table and the large glass decanter containing what looked to be rum. Her stride was broken.

'Hungry, no doubt?'

She hesitated, her foot hanging in the air. Planting it on the floor in disappointment, she slowly turned.

Beckett reclined casually in a matching armchair which made him appear even smaller than usual. Euphemia stifled a smile and recovered her posture, inclining her head in silent acknowledgment of the nobleman. She regarded his relaxed appearance, invisibly unnerved by it, yet intrigued. He bore no jacket nor waistcoat, no ceremonial wig; instead, dark hair framed his shadowed features above an unbuttoned neckline. His un-booted feet rested on yet another matching footstall: tasteful, Euphemia mused. He was almost bearable to look at. Almost, but not quite.

She waved her hand back at the table.

'More thirsty than anything to be honest...'

Gazing longingly at the rum, she realised the convenience of a single glass placed beside it - there for an obvious purpose - yet still wishing to feel its rough taste burn the back of her throat. She struggled to draw her attention away from the crystal carafe.

Beckett huffed in amusement and rose from his seat. With purposefully unhurried steps, he joined her at the table.

'Please,'

He reached for the bottle and filled the waiting glass, Euphemia's eyes watching every sloshing chug. She took it as soon as his arm extended. In seconds it was gone. Beckett was transfixed. She emptied the glass and replaced it on the table.

'Thanks,'

'It's my pleasure...'

He replied gently and moved towards the glowing, un-stoked fireplace. He took up the poker.

'How are you feeling now, Euphemia?'

She shuddered.

'I'd prefer it if you didn't call me that... Winters will do...'

She reached once more for the drink her eyes still rested upon, but snapped her arm back to her side as Beckett turned.

'Well, that's not very friendly now, is it? I was hoping we could converse on a more... personal level...'

Euphemia Winters drew in a silent breath of fear as he approached; her face a picture of pure terror as Beckett's eyes watched the glass he filled. He offered it up to her and she smiled with believable amiability.

'Mia then...'

She relaxed and took the glass from him. Keeping her eyes on his face she took a sip, but failed to remove the glass from her lips and continued to knock back the alcohol until it had gone. Beckett raised an eyebrow.

'What exactly did you wish to "converse" about?'

Euphemia's attention was drawn to an enormous map of the Caribbean adorning one whole wall of the office. Beckett studied the pirate as she wandered around his private quarters: her hair hung in ragged streams, though still it managed to reflect the lantern light. No lady would ever have been seen wearing the clothes that she considered acceptable, yet a lady's clothes would not have suited her. She did not hold herself properly; she slouched and ambled. Instead of holding her head high it seemed to be on a permanent slant of quizzicality. She scratched and fidgeted. She would guffaw rather than laugh quietly. She drank rum. Yet despite all of this, she was fascinating. Beckett refilled his own glass as he mused.

'Perhaps you could start by answering my enquiry into your health...'

He took a few steps towards Euphemia's back. She rolled her eyes in tedium, but glanced cheerfully over her shoulder.

'I'm feeling much better thank you, Admiral Beckett... Or may I call you Cutler...?'

He walked closer to her.

'I would very much like it if you did...'

Euphemia slipped him her best false smile and returned to studying the map. Beckett's expression dropped, momentarily shunned. He gathered himself.

'So then - Mia - what of Jack...?'

Euphemia hesitated, and stopped her wanderings. She swallowed, pursing her lips as she turned to the gently smiling figure of Beckett. She returned his leer.

'Last time I saw him...he was drunk.' Euphemia grinned

'Tell me - is there some sort of family connection between you?'

Euphemia frowned darkly to herself.

'Not that I'm aware...' Her eyes narrowed as she kept her gaze on his, 'What on earth makes you think that?'

Euphemia slowly began to circle him, giving him a wide berth and paying particular attention to the poker leaning against the fireplace. Beckett shrugged nonchalantly, before taking-up her inspection of the map.

'There must be only one other explanation for a man to risk so much for a woman...'

Euphemia stopped at the dining table and glanced casually back at Beckett. She dropped her eyes to the wares on display and picked up an apple.

'How do you mean sir?' She rolled the fruit in her palms. Beckett turned with a smile.

'Why Mia - don't tell me that you are unaware of Jack's sacrifices for you? Risking his own freedom before you were captured and returned to Port Royal: Lieutenant Norrington was quite adamant that he saw the Pearl in the distance when he found you on that island...'

Euphemia's face was a picture of puzzlement as she studied Beckett's features. She took a bite of the apple slowly.

'Jack sank one of the Royal Navy's best ships Mia, and damaged the other quite badly,'

He moved towards the table, where Euphemia stood watching his every step; a smile invisible upon her lips.

'What I want to know, though Mia, is why he left you there in the first place... What had you done that made him want to use you as a device in his attempts to impair the East India Company...?'

Euphemia stood speechless for a few moments, thoughts racing through her mind. She then took another bite of the apple.

'Probably some argument over navigation again - y'know he's bloody awful at reading charts...!'

She smiled and wandered over to the desk where the papers lay. Beckett paused, thrown-off by her flippancy.

'You were unconscious...'

'Yes, well that was thanks to your bloody friend Norrington wasn't it?!' She hesitated, before sighing in resignation. 'Look - I was restocking, alright?'

'Restocking?'

'Yes - restocking our supply of... fluids... Then, before I knew it your little minions turned up and started using their rifles as clubs instead of the generally regarded rightful purpose of blowing someone's brains out... which, don't get me wrong - I'm grateful for - but still - they shouldn't have ignored the rules of combat in a fair fight...!!'

Euphemia bit roughly into her apple with a wide-eyed stare of conclusion. Beckett nodded with a smirk. He handed her another drink and pushed the papers away from her. He leant against the desk beside the unpredictable woman.

'Yet he didn't feel it necessary to return for you...'

He sipped at his own drink; Euphemia casually trying to read what was on the top manuscript.

'Didn't give him much of a chance did you?'

She downed the drink and shoved the glass back at him.

'No... I don't suppose we did...'

Becket continued to watch her. She could feel his eyes boring into her neck as she stood by the desk, unsure of what to do or where to look. She hesitated and stiffly went to step away. Beckett caught her hand. His fingers were ice on her soft skin; he traced the thick pink scar that ran the length of her hand; she usually had it covered with a glove. Euphemia watched distastefully as Beckett's fervent eyes examined her skin. She screwed up her face in revulsion. Jack's words echoed in her head;

_'You're a woman, Mia - you can use it...'_

She breathed a heavy breath of loathing and felt his hand slide further up her sleeve. Euphemia raised her eyes to meet his.

'Why did you have them bring me here, Beckett?' Her voice was low, almost inaudible.

'Ms Winters,' Beckett murmured, 'there are very few people who interest me to the extent where I am forced to divert my plans - and the code - around them...'

His eyes followed his fingers along the inside of her arm, as he gently turned it over. He outlined the branding on her scarred skin.

'In bringing you here Mia, into this building, and having you tended by maids employed by the East India Trading Company, I have broken several rather important regulations which secure my position, and my future. If I was found out... if someone told the Company - I would stand to lose everything...'

Beckett looked up to her calm, solemn features. He stood from his place against the desk, meeting her cold stare.

'The strange thing is Mia, I'm willing to take that risk...'

'All for Jack's sake?' Euphemia studied his unchanging expression.

'No, not for Jack's sake.'

'How can you be so sure Norrington will keep quiet?'

A short laugh escaped his lips.

'He's a sensible man Ms Winters; he knows what will benefit him, and what will not...'

Euphemia paused, and then gently tilted her head to consider Beckett's advances. Inside she screamed and clawed at his face. She smiled softly.

'I never did thank you for rescuing me...' She suppressed the urge to gag as he reached for her neck, 'But what interest am I to you now?'

Beckett's eyes were dark and lustful as he moved closer.

'I just find you captivating...'

He pressed his lips against hers, holding her firmly to him by the neck. It was like being hung, but less pleasant.

Euphemia clenched her fists by her sides as he kissed her, and forced herself to place her hands on him.

Beckett moved his lips to her ear.

'I've been watching you and Jack for a long time now, Mia... I wasn't going to let you slip away...'

Beckett ran his lips along her neck, moving his hands to her waist. He pushed her back against the desk and she winced as a metal handle stabbed her in the spine. He tasted like mint leaves - and rum; at least that much was pleasant. His hands progressed higher as his incessant lips worked at hers. Euphemia glanced at the clock on the wall which ticked loudly in the silence, and rolled her eyes.

Suddenly there was a sharp knock at the door and an officer began to enter whilst addressing Beckett.

'Admiral B...'

'GET OUT...!!'

Beckett ordered, wheeling round on the man. Euphemia took the opportunity to escape and swiftly crept away from the desk behind Beckett's back. She hurried towards the window.

The officer, looking slightly shocked and flustered, hesitated and then quickly removed himself from Beckett's glare. After a second, he turned to look at Euphemia standing by the window, her head hidden behind a curtain where she stared out across the docks. She heard the key "click" in its lock.

The rain pelted the glass panes and lightning rippled across the sky. She sighed, aware that Beckett was behind her, and tried to control the tremor that built up inside. The familiar ache of cramp began pulsing in her left hand where the tendons had had to repair themselves after they were slashed. Euphemia glanced down at her hand as she clenched her fist therapeutically.

'Do you believe Sparrow is coming for you?'

Euphemia closed her eyes momentarily, praying quietly that this was a nightmare. She removed her head from behind the curtain, eyes downcast in false dejection.

'No... I know he won't come for me... It's the Code isn't it...' She glanced out once more across the bay, 'Those who fall behind, stay behind...'

She let the curtain fall heavily back into position and turned to walk away from Beckett. He caught her arm but this time she tugged it away. Viciously he grabbed her by the arm again. She jostled with him briefly but without reward. He shoved her roughly against the wall, trapping her between his arms. For a few seconds all she could hear was her own fearful breathing as he watched her intensely, anger emanating from him.

'Do you know that feeling of insanity a man endures when he is starving, Ms Winters...? When he has gone without food for so long - the wantonness that he bears driving him crazy... Unbelievable passion plaguing him to get what he craves...' Beckett pressed his body against hers, 'Especially when it has been staring him in the face for so long...'

Euphemia forced herself to keep her eyes fixed with his fierce glare. She felt his breath on her face, and the tremor leaving her body. She let his lips hover over hers.

'Tell me what Jack did to you...'

Euphemia whispered, watching the glow in his eyes glisten slightly as he considered her. He breathed a laugh. She moved her lips to his ear.

'Why do you hate him _so_ much – that you'd be willing to sleep with a pirate...?'

Beckett smirked.

'Has no one ever told you, Mia...' He ran a rough hand over her chin 'That a man's pride is the worst thing to break...?'

She dipped her head in questioning.

'He interfered one too many times, my dear...I'll tell you about it sometime...'

Gradually Beckett fell back into her lips, his hands grasping fervently at her body. Euphemia kept her eyes firmly on him while they kissed; her entire being searing with hate and disgust. It looked like Jack's plan wasn't set to lose after all; there would, however, be words about this part.


	3. Welcome to the Caribbean, love

'I look - like a wench...!'

Euphemia stood in the Captain's quarters, her arms held out and her legs slightly parted as Jack decorated her like a Christmas tree.

'And why in Hell's name are you hanging ribbon on me?!'

She snatched it away from him and threw it on the floor. Jack looked down at it despondently and picked it up.

'Thought it would complement the dress...'

He gave her an uneven grin as Euphemia snarled back.

'I ain't wearing no stinking dress! Why do people always want to put me in a dress?!'

She ripped it off over her head, forcing Jack to turn sharply away.

'Wish you'd warn me when you're gonna do that - ' He grimaced and stared at her in the mirror anyway.

Euphemia pulled on her shirt and boots and unpinned her hair. She ruffled it into its general shape.

'Why do you think Beckett would ever consider me in that way anyhow?!'

She threw herself down into a chair and her legs up onto the table agitatedly. Jack beamed at her and wandered over to the panelled glass of the window.

'Well - you said yourself you two have history...'

'He was stationed in the area I used to live...' She snapped.

Jack held his hands up in surrender.

'Besides - I've had a few hints.'

He winked and took out his compass to fiddle with it. Euphemia watched him suspiciously. A slow expression of fury spreading across her face.

'Hints?' She hissed at him, 'What kind of hints? At what point did you have the opportunity to receive such hints?!'

She wrenched herself from the chair and marched over to where Jack stood contentedly with his compass.

'Is that where you disappeared to when we last made port?! When we were all desperately looking for you, you were with that... mongrel?!'

Euphemia slammed closed his compass, leaving a childish look of dejection on his brow. She forced herself in his face.

'Did you use me as _leverage_ Jack?!'

Her face was flushed and her eyes twinkled. Jack smiled gently at her.

'I do so love it when you get angry...'

She knocked away his hand as he tried to smooth her cheek.

'I don't believe you, Sparrow!!'

Euphemia paced down the cabin frantically shaking her head.

'It was your idea!'

Jack muttered at her. She threw him an unbelieving stare.

'_My idea?!_ How in Davey Jones' name did you work that one out Jack?!'

The table shook as she slammed her hands down furiously. Jack started and looked at her, shocked.

'You said we needed to find his weak spot! So I did!'

He threw his hands up in celebration.

'By suggesting me?!'

'Actually Mia - it was he who did all the suggesting...'

Jack raised his eyebrows at her, matter-of-fact. Euphemia's expression turned to one of fear, her eyes wide with horror.

'You mean - he actually _said_ that he wanted _me_...'

She stared at the table. Jack mulled it over in his head.

_'...the only thing of yours that could ever interest me Jack is that precious girl of yours...' _

'Pretty much, yeah.' He grinned. 'Bob's Your Uncle - we've found his weak spot!'

He opened his arms happily, pleased with his explanation. Euphemia stared him down.

'So you used me to barter did you?'

'Of course not! I was disgusted when he suggested such a thing! I told him there was no way in this great world that I would ever allow it...!'

Euphemia raised an eyebrow, inspecting the dress and fishnets. Jack hesitated and smiled at her.

'Pretty...?'

He traced a circle on the table innocently. Euphemia gritted her teeth and growled.

'Look!' Jack hurried round the table to stop her from storming off, 'We know how to get to Beckett now; we just need those papers Mia! If I'd handed you over on a plate he'd have thought us desperate. This way he doesn't know what we're after, and he'll think he's just got very lucky. Right now, Admiral Cutler Beckett reckons us to be two pirates looking for some information on Curacao; he doesn't realise that if we don't have those papers...'

Jack's voice trailed off. Euphemia watched his eyes glaze and his features weaken. He swallowed dryly.

'You're a woman, Mia - you can use it.' He jested sadly with her.

She let out a long sigh and smiled easily at him

'Fine! I'll do it, I'll do it!! I'll get round Beckett...' She shuddered.

Jack's expression struggled into a smirk, as Euphemia glanced once more at the dress in her hand. She looked at it pathetically.

'I don't really have to wear this though do I?'

'It depends...'

Euphemia looked at him.

'On what...?'

He pursed his lips, knowing that he may full well earn himself a slap.

'On whether you think Lieutenant Norrington will like it...?'

Euphemia paused, before hissing through gritted teeth.

'...what?'

Jack grinned at her innocently.

'We just need to convince Norrington that helping us would benefit him greatly...' He shrugged.

Euphemia gaped at him in disbelief.

'I thought you said _**he**_ approached _**you**_?!'

'_I_ haven't actually...ever met him...but I'm sure all we need is a woman's touch to really_...persuade_ him - He'll love you in that dress!_'_

Jack quickly dodged her angry advances and hurried out of the cabin, leaving Euphemia storming with fury.


	4. Bargain

Euphemia lay staring at the patterned wood above the Admiral's bed. She could hear her own breathing above anything else that dared make a sound. The rain continued to pound against the panelled window, through which the bright moonlight flooded the room. She didn't have to look at Beckett to know that he was deep in slumber; she had pretended to sleep herself until he had dropped off.

Euphemia glanced over at him. Any ferocity and arrogance that he had commanded earlier had now released him. He didn't appear the same man; a gentleness had taken over his features which made him appear sincere. More like the young Lieutenant with which she'd once been acquaintances.

Euphemia rolled her head back to gaze at the bed's canopy. She inhaled deeply. She hadn't thought about her life before piracy for what seemed an eternity. She hadn't wanted to remember it; as far as she was concerned, that part of her was dead. Beckett had been around briefly a month or so before she had left the port, being merely 19. They knew each other only from short meetings, forced upon her by her father; yet it was obvious to Euphemia now that his rise to King's Representative was inevitable; his superiority made sure of that.

_'I knew I'd have you some day Mia...'_

The young woman hauled herself up, holding the sheets to her tightly. She sat for a moment, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dull light. Euphemia reached for her shirt and trousers. Glancing momentarily back at Beckett she padded through the silence towards the great window.

Resting her hands on the freezing ledge she stared out over the bay. The rain made patterns across the water and she could hear in her head the rumble of the waves. She closed her eyes and leant her forehead against the glass pane.

Beckett fidgeted slightly in the bed behind her. She turned to see him. He lay silently again, his back to her, and the open doorway. She wiped a hand across her forehead where the condensation from the window had left it wet. Carefully she crept out of the room and towards the dimly lit desk of papers. Her hands felt their way around the living space; the rough embroidery of the long couch, and then the cool smoothness of the great dining table.

Euphemia reached the desk and simply stood under the glow of the oil lamp. Ten, perhaps twenty seconds passed before she drew the papers towards her. Her eyes were tired from sleep and the warmth of the room; still, she managed to focus on Beckett's lurid signature. Every warrant was yet to be marked with his seal, but it was clear he was drawing out the fear and torment of these people for as long as possible; they were certificates of Pardon. She hadn't expected this. Euphemia fingered each manuscript. She placed them neatly to one side and picked up another pile of papers twice as thick as the first pile. These were execution notices. These had been signed and sealed; obviously with more ease than the Pardons.

Euphemia's heart sank a little. She'd hoped to discover another side to this vicious bastard. Guilt flooded her senses as she sneered at her pathetic illusions. She tried picking at one of the seals; what good would that have done? He'd have easily sealed them again and she didn't have time to grab them and run. She hesitated, before shuffling all the papers maliciously.

'How annoying...'

She muttered with spite and threw them back down so they scattered across the desk. Euphemia pulled out the top drawer and rummaged quietly. There was nothing in there that was of interest or use, except a small purse of about seven Reals. She emptied the velvet bag and put the Bits in her pocket.

The next drawer contained his certificates of office declaring him to be the Lord High Admiral under His Majesty the King. Euphemia sucked at her teeth distastefully and ran her thumb over the royal crest. Underneath these was a small leather-bound notebook. She took it out carefully and unwound the binding. Inside were a number of small, detailed maps and designs of a ship. In the dark, Euphemia held the paper close to her eyes and squinted: The_ Wicked Wench_... _The Black Pearl_ as it was now known. This had been the ship with which Beckett had entrusted Jack to ferry his precious cargo to Port Royal. As soon as Jack had discovered that he had been coaxed into transporting slaves he'd set course for Africa. It was once he had been tracked down and the ship sunk that Beckett had awarded Jack with his Pirate branding...and Jack had vowed to reward Beckett with his.

Euphemia blinked her way back to the present. She stood holding the papers. Carefully they were stuffed back in the wallet and slipped into the drawer. She came to the last drawer and pulled. It was locked. She rattled the handle and cursed under her breath.

'Bugger, bugger, bugger, _bugger_...!'

Euphemia searched again in the first two drawers hoping she had simply missed the key. There was nothing. She kicked the mahogany drawer and turned to look elsewhere.

Euphemia's breath halted as she became aware of Beckett's shadowed form leaning in the doorway. She smiled as casually as she could and relaxed back against the desk.

'Must have been sleep-walking again...' She grinned weakly.

Beckett's laugh was low and quiet as he stepped slowly into the faint light, neatening the cuffs of his shirt.

'And sleep-_searching_ it seems?'

He did not look up at her as he said this. Euphemia hesitated.

'So...what's in the drawer?'

She kicked it with her heel as she rested against the desk. Beckett watched her for a few seconds, perhaps musing on whether to indulge her. Slowly he stepped towards her until they were face to face. Euphemia stared blankly at him. Gradually he removed a key from his pocket and unlocked the drawer.

'Take a look,'

Beckett smiled gently at her and walked away. She wasn't sure how to react. Finally turning she wrenched open the drawer. She pulled out another leather binder eagerly and opened it on the desk. Euphemia glared at the contents.

'I think you'll find them all there - certificates, warrants, licenses - anything he may need to free himself...'

Beckett lowered himself into the far chair and watched the young woman, hands clasped and fingers resting on his chin. He bore no expression upon his face, and made no indication that he would summon the guards if she were to make an escape. Euphemia looked down at the precious papers.

'You know...?' She murmured softly.

The silence of the room was heavy. Every now and again the oil lantern would let off a 'click' of heat, and still the clock ticked relentlessly. Beckett lowered his hands.

'Of course I know Euphemia - I keep a close eye on these waters; I pride myself on my ability to keep track of the darkest secrets out there...'

He smiled slowly, his eyes cast in deep shadow.

'Your boy Jack has gone and got his soul in limbo hasn't he? He needs those papers so that he can buy it back before...'

Beckett watched Euphemia fidget agitatedly. As she stared him out, he leant his head back against the chair and smiled even harder.

'How long's he got, Mia? Five days? A week?'

Becket cocked his head as Euphemia gritted her teeth, scowling. Casually he lifted himself from the chair and began to walk towards her.

'But I also know one other thing Mia...'

He continued closer, so that she could see the wickedness in his eyes glinting under the lamp light.

'I know that you're not just here for Jack's sake; _you're_ looking for something too, aren't you?'

Beckett stepped slowly up to her and stopped. He inclined his head understandingly, as if charged with a very important secret. He leaned in and whispered defiantly to her.

'I know that you're looking for your daughter Mia...'

He pulled back slightly and grinned.

'And you know that I can find her...'


	5. I am disinclined to acquiesce

Barbossa leered repulsively at her as Euphemia paced back and forth across the forecastle of the ship. She paused in front of him and sneered in his face.

'What are you grinning at, cretin!'

They stared each other out before Jack quickly guided her away with his arm round her shoulder. He brought her to the prow of the ship. Euphemia was rigid at the prospect of what she had been tasked with as Jack began to soothe her.

'Mia...'

He hesitated and turned to the crew, who had gathered eagerly to watch their lady perform.

'Back to work!!'

Jack hollered aggressively and glared at Barbossa. The First Mate rolled his eyes and resigned.

'Back to work yer dogs! You heard the Captain!'

Gradually they all dispersed to the lower deck as Jack turned his attention back to Mia. She stood frozen, gripping onto the bow railings and staring fearfully at the distant island. Jack sighed at her, and realised what he was putting her through. He stepped up beside her once again.

'Mia...'

Putting his hand on her shaking knuckles he waited until she brought her eyes to his. Euphemia looked at Jack pathetically as he studied her delicate features; scarred and bruised, yet subtly handsome. He remembered why he'd once loved her.

'...you don't have to do this - we'll find some other way...'

'No,' Euphemia looked back out over the water, 'We both know it's the only way we're going to get to Beckett. We need those papers Jack - for both our sakes.'

Jack frowned slightly, and breathed a confused laugh.

'What would you need them for?'

Euphemia hesitated. She glanced at him, unsure. Carefully she smiled.

'I can't control this lot alone; what's a woman supposed to do by her lonesome on these waters?'

She gave him a grin and composed herself.

'Right - get me to that island sir, before the Lieutenant appears on the horizon!'

Euphemia headed towards the cockboat. Jack watched her as she began hauling at the ropes. He smiled weakly before going to help her, still perplexed as to what she really meant.

The dinghy bobbed gently. Euphemia sat silently in the front, looking at the deserted island. Jack waited for her to speak. Seconds passed as they both just sat there. Eventually Euphemia let out a long sigh and stepped out of the boat into the shallow water. Jack followed and pulled the dinghy up to the shore line.

Euphemia wandered around the edge of the trees until she found the rum store. She stamped hard on the wooden cover to find the edge, lifted the slat and replaced it after taking out two bottles. She meandered back to the Captain who watched her intently, accepting the bottle that was shoved into his hands.

'One for the road...'

Euphemia spat out the cork and gulped at the rum desperately. Jack slowly took a slug and sat beside her. They were silent for a few awkward moments before he caught her with a feeble smile. She raised an eyebrow unimpressed and took another swig of rum. Jack frowned.

'If there was any other way Mia...'

'Will you stop saying that Jack?! I've told you - I can do this; Beckett is no problem!'

Jack looked at the sand and ran it through his fingers.

'What if he tries something...?'

Euphemia paused her drinking and glanced at him incredulously.

'What...?'

'Well you know...' Jack shrugged pathetically and tried to grin at her.

'He won't kill me Jack; even if I am a pirate now, he still knew me...'

Jack hesitated and picked at the sand.

'That's what I mean...'

He sensed Euphemia's eyes on him. He felt like a small child about to get a severe scolding.

'What if he _wants to know you_ again...'

Jack raised his gaze to her pitifully. He watched Euphemia's features gradually crease into hysterical laughter. She threw her head back and fell onto the sand. She lay there giggling as Jack tried to hide his embarrassment. Euphemia wiped her eyes and sighed happily.

'You do make me laugh sometimes Jack.'

She smacked his arm playfully. He looked down at her with a hazy grin.

'I think that's how I won you over in the first place, wasn't it?'

Euphemia's smile slowly disappeared. She rolled her head and looked away from him uncomfortably. She pretended to study the horizon until Jack realised that the past could not be that easily remembered.

Suddenly Euphemia sat up and squinted into the distance. A magnificent naval ship emerged through the mist into view: Norrington. Euphemia scrambled to her feet and watched the shadow grow. Jack hauled himself up beside her and glowered at the dominating vessel.

'You better go...' Euphemia muttered, still watching the ship.

Jack looked to her, expecting at least a smile of farewell. She kept her eyes fixed on the water. Hesitantly Jack stepped away and trod the few yards to the dingy.

'Jack...'

He turned to her voice hopefully. He was rewarded with a smile.

'Don't leave me too long! I don't want to be missing out on anything!'

Jack grinned and wavered slightly.

'Just remember Mia: aim for the heart...'

She watched him push out the boat and climb in awkwardly. Confusion painted on her face she shook her head and turned to see Norrington's boat loom closer. Euphemia drew in a deep breath.

'Here goes...'


	6. No not anymore weren't you listening!

Euphemia sat silently in the glow of the oil lanterns. Beckett watched her from his high-back chair with satisfaction. The girl bit at her nails distractedly and stared at the papers in her hand. Finally she threw them on the desk and rubbed her face wearily. She stared at Beckett, expressionless. She parted her dry lips and murmured.

'What do you want?'

The silence drifted over her and whilst she waited for his answer; as perverse as it may be. Beckett lowered his hands slowly and paused.

'I want to rid these waters of every pirate there ever was.' He stared, unblinking, back at her

Euphemia sighed and dropped her face to the floor.

'What can _I_ do about that Beckett? How can _I_ help you with _that_?!'

Her face was pale and shadowed as she glowered maliciously up at him. Beckett smiled that wicked, sickly smile that made him so nauseating. He rose from his seat and stepped quietly into the lantern light; features drenched with sincerity. Reaching for her face, he smoothed her cheek with the back of his hand; Euphemia tensing every muscle in her body as he did so.

'Mia; you're helping me already. Once Jack realises that I have you, he'll come running. When I have Jack, I'll have his men. Once it's known that I have brought down an entire crew through one person...'

'Jack knows I'm here Beckett...'

'Yes Mia - I know he does; but does he know what you've done?'

Euphemia felt her entire form fill with anxiety; sparks that shattered like glass throughout her body. She studied Beckett's dark features as he kept his eyes fixed on hers.

'Why would he care what I've done?'

Beckett dropped his head in an ironic chuckle. He gazed at her.

'Euphemia, he's in love with you - you don't think he'll care that you've secured yourself to me?'

Euphemia's hand shot up and smacked away his burning touch.

'What?'

Beckett's features remained completely calm as the woman snarled.

'Here's my proposal Euphemia: I'll help you find your daughter, in return for your signing of this document,'

He walked to the fireplace and took out a manuscript from the wooden box that sat on top. He brought the papers to her.

'It declares that you yield to the East India Trading Company. You must relinquish your life of piracy.'

Euphemia's face was a mixture of confusion and hatred.

'You simply want me to give-up pirating and become a privateer?'

'No Mia; I want you to give up the sea altogether and live in my household. You will return to your rightful place in society as a lady of class and forget about this ridiculous life you lead.'

'_Ridiculous_?! Have you heard yourself?! You hang people as a duty, Beckett! And not always guilty people! I _**am**_ a pirate whether you want me to be or not. You may sign and seal my execution notice now and send me straight to the noose but you will never, _**NEVER**_ force me to abandon what I am!!'

Beckett grabbed her as she went to stride away.

'You never were a sensible girl Mia; I could have made you a respected aristocrat if you hadn't been so reckless as to run after your absurd notion of piracy and get mixed up with that fool Sparrow...'

'Jack is ten times the man you ever were. I would never have married you...and never will...'

Euphemia watched Beckett's face fill with rage. His silence was penetrating. He pulled her close to his face and sneered.

'Then you will never see your daughter; you're heading straight for the gallows Euphemia...'

He threw away her arm and strode back to his sleeping quarters, slamming the doors behind him.

Euphemia stood in the silence of the room, the lamp crackling with spite. She knew that if she dared to run, she would have no chance; Beckett had her controlled in every way. She could do nothing.


	7. The entire ocean, the entire world

The crew watched their captain hold himself in silence, grasping the rail along the back of the ship. His hair flicked restlessly like the main sail above him as they rode the waves away from the island, leaving the young woman alone; prey to the East India Trading Company. Jack kept his eyes pinned on her until the last sheet of spray cleared her from view. He hesitated, before turning on the whole crew to scream his orders.

'Brace the main sail and pick-up speed – we need to head for nearest port but _keep moving!_'

Barbossa stepped forward.

'Tortuga is close Captain; perhaps you'd like to head there first? Stock up on supplies as it were...'

He grinned and nodded, only to be honoured with a weary blink.

'Tortuga it is then,'

Jack strode on past Barbossa, throwing him the compass.

'Give the men their bearings... I'll be below...'

Hector watched the shadow disappear into the captain's quarters and rolled his eyes with tedium. He wheeled round.

'Right men! Tortuga awaits! I think we can all find our way there! Get to yer stations!!'

He let go a howl of laughter and headed for the helm.

Jack sat staring at the ripped map stretched out before him on the table. He couldn't bring himself to pick out the route around the coast away from Port Royal. He raised an eyebrow as he heard Barbossa screaming more orders and shook his head at the power-crazed fool.

'I'm gonna have to watch him,'

Jack muttered to himself as he grabbed the co-ordinate markers. He jolted with surprise as someone rapped at the door sharply.

'Yes!'

The door opened with a slow groan and LeJon stuck his head carefully around the frame. Jack's quizzical look wavered slightly as he examined the deckhand. His head inclined in suspicion.

'This is unusual; is there a problem on deck?'

LeJon shook his head and took a step further into the cabin.

'I'm sorry to interrupt you Captain; I know it's not my place...'

Jack frowned and hesitated, before pushing out a chair with his foot in gesture for the man to sit. LeJon headed swiftly for the chair and sat. There was silence for a few moments before Jack shifted uncomfortably and looked at him. LeJon ran his tongue over his cracked lips.

'Ms Euphemia...'

Jack's body tensed as he narrowed his eyes on the new recruit.

'It don't feel right leavin' a lady to the likes of the East India Company...'

'You do not trust my judgement...?'

'No, sir, no - it's not that...'

'You do not have faith in your captain?'

LeJon fidgeted and tried to intercept Jack's words, clasping his hands together on the table's surface.

'Captain sir, no sir - I know that you do right in your actions and it's with good reason; but surely the thought of leaving your own flesh and blood on that island, just to tempt the Admiral can't bide well with you neither...?'

LeJon watched Jack's indignant expression turn to one of surprise. His mouth opened and closed.

'Flesh and blood?'

Jack inclined his head in question; LeJon returning his frown.

'Your sister captain; if she were mine I could do no such thing... I'm sorry sir - t'is not my place - forget my thoughts, tis crazy talk from the sun...'

LeJon went to make his leave but Jack shook his head and raised a hand.

'Son - she's not my sister...'

He gave the man a candid stare and waited for him to respond.

'But the men - they name her as your sister...'

'Prosperity mate; can't have the likes of Cutler Beckett knowing our history can we?'

Jack got the reaction he expected. He dropped his gaze and sighed in weariness. LeJon had only been with the crew for a couple of weeks, and so appeared confounded at the Captain's words. With a sigh he submitted to an explanation.

'I s'pose you'll find out soon enough...Ms Winters - Euphemia - was to be my wife - right up until the point that she vanished from the face of God's great Earth...'

Jack smirked ironically at LeJon and stood from his chair. The captain walked precariously around the table, sliding his fingers across its smooth surface with incessant gesture.

'A year later she reappeared whilst we were at port and boarded the ship as if nothing had ever happened...it was as if she had never been away and would give us absolutely no word of where she had disappeared to.'

Jack stopped and leant across the table.

'That's when I vowed never to love another woman...'

He grinned sardonically.

LeJon blinked and opened his mouth to speak; interrupted before he could make a sound.

'What we do not want however, is for the great _Admiral_ Beckett and noble _Lieutenant_ Norrington to find out; because once they know that, they will realise that pirates really _are_ human, and there are certain things they can touch with their grubby little hands that will send a man mad...'

Jack stared at LeJon with a wild look in his eye and a smirk upon his face. The younger man closed his still-pursed lips and nodded. He looked to his captain sincerely.

'Men like Beckett will see through any deception...you know she isn't safe sir...'

LeJon studied Jack's weakened expression and lowered his own eyes sadly.

'I'm sorry Captain...'

He left the cabin swiftly and closed the door behind him, leaving Jack staring blankly at the table. Looking up at the plated windows and catching the reflection, Jack considered his pathetic state with contempt, tediously rolling his eyes.

'Oh God it's like a Shakespeare tragedy...not that I've ever seen one...'

Jack mused aloud to himself before quickly shaking away his thoughts. He glanced around as if something had suddenly flown down.

'Where's the rum...?'


	8. That's not very nice

Euphemia's hand felt like rock as she held the dagger above Beckett's sleeping body. She could kill him. Sure - she would hang for it, but at least it would be a small salvation for any pirate roaming the Caribbean.

Her face stung with fury and hate; her stomach: revulsion and panic. She could feel the pull of desire drawing the blade towards his rising chest; a pure sense of fear the only thing holding her back.

Yet murdering the highest-ranking Admiral in the East India Trading company would be a small triumph despite her own death. And her daughter would never know who she was.

Euphemia pulled the dagger back instinctively and held it to her. Maybe it would be better that way: she was taken from her for a reason; maybe they were right to keep her true life hidden from her. Who would want a mother who had escaped the noose more times than a smith had forged a weapon?

She was a state; Euphemia looked up into the mirror beside her. Her eyes were still dark with traces of kohl. Her hair was a dreary blonde and it knotted at the roots and at the ends. Her entire body was riddled with scars and tattoos; dead languages covered her flesh like an insatiable lover. Despite this, she treated her own language with appalling disregard; she cursed and swore, and didn't care for etiquette. She had killed men. But she couldn't kill this one. Not with a child at stake.

Euphemia stood over the bed and felt the tremble in her hand start again. For the first time in four years she held back tears; she refused to let them stain her face anymore than it already was.

Beckett awoke gently to find Euphemia standing over him. His face was calm and expressionless. He watched her before letting a quiet laugh escape his lips. Euphemia gripped the bone handle tighter as she glared down at him with disgust. The laugh died away as he watched the woman's knuckles whiten and her hands shake fiercely.

'You couldn't do it could you? You couldn't actually bring yourself to kill me...'

Euphemia sneered viciously at him.

'Only because I want my little girl back...'

She lowered the dagger in resignation and stared down at it. She could feel Beckett's eyes on her. He sat up and rested his head back on his arm casually, making Euphemia feel like a child herself.

'You know the conditions Mia: you live here with me and relinquish your life of piracy; help me bring down Jack and his horde of mongrels and you get your daughter back. I don't understand why the proposal repulses you so much - am I not offering you a life of luxury?'

Euphemia raised an eyebrow cynically, only to receive a sigh of little amusement.

'Piracy is a crime against the state and its people Mia; it's in the interest of the common good for it to be stopped, can't you see that?'

She stared silently at him with eyes full of loathing.

'It's a way of life Beckett...it may repulse you, but there are some who have known no other way. There are only a few like me who chose this life...because they despised their own so much... Do you really believe I would have fitted into your world?'

Beckett picked himself out of bed and slowly moved up to her.

'Now's our chance to find out Euphemia,' he took her hand and studied the scars that channelled across her skin. 'Your daughter's life depends on it...'

His eyes rose to hers with content, seeing the shock painted upon her face. Her head shook slowly in confusion.

'If they find out she's the child of a pirate lord, do you really think they'll keep her?'

Euphemia narrowed her eyes at him.

'And I suppose you'd be the one to let them know would you?'

She was hit by a smirk.

'It's my duty to make sure the infection of piracy doesn't spread...can't take any chances now can we?'

Euphemia ripped away her hand. She stepped up to his face, holding the dagger at his throat.

'Then why haven't you done anything about it sooner?'

'I wouldn't have anything to barter with then would I?'

He grinned and ran his eyes over her greedily. Euphemia sneered in disgust as Beckett laid his hand on her waist and moved her closer.

'What's it to be Euphemia? Could you at least pretend to love me, for your daughter's sake?'

She shook her head with weary resignation.

'Just help me find my daughter...I'll do whatever it takes.'

A shudder danced across her skin as Beckett ran his fingers over her cheek.

'Good girl Euphemia,' He smiled wickedly at her, 'I promise I'll make it as painless as possible...'


	9. Currency is the currency of the realm

Euphemia sat quietly at the large breakfast table that stretched the length of the dining room. Fresh morning sunlight streamed in through the surrounding French windows and warmed her skin. The overstated dress she wore gripped her tightly around the waist and made her breathing difficult. She squirmed again and grasped desperately at the material, trying hard to pull it up over her bosom. She jumped as the serving girl placed a glass in front of her. Euphemia smiled weakly.

'Don't fidget Ms Winters, it's not apposite for the table.' Beckett did not look up from his papers.

Euphemia sneered and yanked at the stitching.

'Lord Etherege has requested my presence at the Captains' Welcome Ball tomorrow evening. It will give you an opportunity to practise your conduct.'

Euphemia glared at him in disbelief.

'What is this Cutler? I'm not your bloody pet!'

Beckett looked from the maid back to Euphemia.

'There will certainly be none of that there.'

She gave him a mocking smile and picked up her fork. She stabbed at the plate and studied the food critically. Beckett stared at her with incredulity. He lowered his eyes.

'Euphemia, my dear...'

'I am _not_ your anything...!!'

Beckett watched her for a few seconds before she tore her eyes away angrily. He stood up and gestured for the servants to leave. Slowly he paced along the table to where the young woman sat, coyly now. He stood over her for a moment, daring her to look at him. Suddenly he slammed his hand on the table and leaned into her face.

_'Did I not _make myself clear last night when I explained the conditions of our agreement? You are to respect and obey me; you live in my house and therefore by my rules and if you speak to me in that manner again in front of _anyone_...you can say goodbye to any hope of finding your daughter. Do you understand?'

Euphemia stared blankly at the plate in front of her.

'Yes, my Lord.' She glanced up at him and smiled. 'I beg your forgiveness.'

Beckett straightened and nodded.

'Yes, I should think so.'

He called for the maid to bring his coat and slipped it on.

'I'll be away for an hour at the most. When I return, I expect to find you indulging Marie with your sewing abilities.'

Beckett glanced at the young maid girl as she curtsied obediently. He looked back to Euphemia,

'Don't disappoint me Mia.'

Beckett turned sharply and strode out of the room, leaving Euphemia glaring darkly after him; loathing boiling through her veins.


	10. I WANT MOVEMENT!

The Pearl _rocked gently in the fluorescent moonlight as the crew danced and swung in a frenzy to the music. The oil lamps flickered and flared over every man's face. Shadows were cast across the boards in a theatre of puppetry and feet scuffed and banged. The five musicians stamped their heels on the deck and rested their backsides on barrels of powder as they entertained the men...and their lady. _

**'All musicians shall have their only day of rest on the Sabbath. Any other day, musical pirates shall be granted leisure time by the favour of the Captain...'**

_This was their day of rest._

_It was a celebration of freedom; life to be lived as they wanted. The whole ocean and everything that rested on it was theirs for the taking. Hands were thrown to the stars. Rum was guzzled and bottles tossed to each other with merry jeers. Men crawled to one side or the other in search of something to hold themselves up on. They danced in pairs, they jigged on mass. They pulled and tussled one another with friendly mocking. _

_Mia laughed as she was swept from the deck and kicked her legs in the air excitedly as she was lifted. She landed back on the floorboards and continued to dance. _

_Every boot hit the deck in time and scraped with wild exhilaration. Every now and then a cry would be thrown to the sky in time with the music. The shadows stretched and danced faster than ever._

_Jack let go of one crewman and linked arms with the next, throwing his head back with drunken hilarity. He spun with them once and flew onto the next, realising it to be Mia. He clung to her waist tightly so that they were hip to hip and twisted her round. He watched her with rapture and her own eyes were fixed on him. They danced around as the rest of the crew became a blur. They were vaguely aware that they were now the centre of the crowd and danced harder, stamping the deck rhythmically, grasping each other's hand and flinging each other about. The crew stomped the boards along with them and clapped before finally joining back in._

_Jack held up his bottle of rum and howled with laughter. He gripped Euphemia to his side and grinned at her. She took the bottle, swigged hard at it and then threw it away. Jack pulled her to him as they danced and watched her eyes sparkle in the lamp light. The music was loud and the shouts of cheer echoed across the water. Euphemia held her face close to his, tempting him to kiss her, but neither ever actually daring. She laughed again and pushed him away, skipping across to where the musicians played-on._

_Jack stood precariously watching her as the figures around him continued in their gaiety, grappling and turning in time with the music. The stars became a haze and the satin blue of the sky blurred restlessly as the jollities of the night wavered into the sky; surely to be heard for miles around - if anyone was there to listen..._

Jack sat up quickly from his bed. His pillow was shoved to one side and his sheets were damp with fevered sweat. He sat, blinking for a few minutes, trying to remember whether this was how he always felt or if he was actually going to throw up. He decided that this was normal and scooped himself out of bed, unsteadily as always. He staggered to his cracked and tarred mirror and tried to focus on his reflection.

'Blargh...'

Jack grimaced and stuck out his tongue in disgust. He readjusted the filthy red cloth tied around his head; his scripture of tattoos distorting across the mirror as he turned.

The cabin was dark as he left his sleeping quarters. He sparked a taper and continued to light the wicks of all the oil lanterns. He did this slowly and with precision; not because of care, but simply because he would have fallen over if he had gone any faster. He blew out the flare and turned to the table. He jumped suddenly, letting go a short cry of fright.

A dark figure sat at the head of the table in silence. Jack looked around wide-eyed and terrified. He hesitated. He tried to glare at the form's face and hoped it to be one of the crew who couldn't make it below deck. Yet it didn't seem to have a face to recognise. Jack swallowed and reeled back.

'Ww..What are _you_?!...And why are you on my ship?!'

He watched the shadow make no attempt to move, but sat hunched on the chair - just a mass of black. Jack screwed up his face and shuffled a step forward. It still sat there. Carefully he edged around the table until he was a yard or so away. He stood rigidly and studied it with a frown. Slowly he raised his hand toward it. The ship creaked, and he paused. Gently he extended his arm to a few inches from the body. Its hand shot out from nowhere and grabbed him. Jack's entire body was cemented to the ground as he suddenly found it incredibly difficult to breath.

The hand gripped his wrist tightly as he tried to struggle from its hold. Jack attempted a wrench away and considered battering it to death with his telescope, but it was too far away. And then, a face did appear: it was his first captain; the one he had sailed with when he jumped ship at fourteen. Jack froze with shock, his heart thumping manically within his chest.

'Captain Wood...'

The face stared at him, its eyes disdainful and unmoving. The rest of its form remained black, whilst the pirate's face appeared white in the cabin glow. He did nothing except stare, before cracking his lips and smiling.

'Fiddler's Green, Jack...Your soul's waiting...'

The figure dissolved, causing Jack to fall backwards heavily, crashing into the bench and collapsing into a heap on the floor against it. His face was grey with horror as Barbossa rushed in. He looked at Jack and to the empty space that Jack appeared to be drawn to.

'Captain...?'

Barbossa questioned the rigid mess that his superior was stuck in.

'Nnnhh!!'

Scrabbling to his feet, Jack ran from the cabin, bare-chested and arms waving manically. Barbossa watched him, before following jadedly.

'No rest for the wicked...'


End file.
